


cracked veneer

by amorremanet



Series: Right Where I Belong [11]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: (Meaning: because they'd rather be down on themselves than consider alternate options), (they're dating; he's in love with her AND Shiro; but the focus here is Sheith), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Background Hunk/Lance (Voltron), Background Lance/Ryou (Voltron), Bisexual Disaster Keith (Voltron), Canon Disabled Character, Chronic Illness, Complicated Relationships, Gay Disaster Shiro (Voltron), In which Keith and Shiro are polyam & don't realize it for bad reasons, Kerberos Crew Hunk (Voltron), M/M, Minor Keith/Pidge (Voltron), Mutual Pining, Past Adam/Shiro (Voltron), Polyamorous Character, Post-Kerberos Mission, Shiro (Voltron) Has Multiple Sclerosis, T'hy'la, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-07-27 23:56:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16229942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amorremanet/pseuds/amorremanet
Summary: Getting promoted to Lieutenant Commander is an honor, something to celebrate — if you’ve actually earned it. Unfortunately, Shiro is pretty certain that he hasn’t. All he sees in this ceremony is a consolation prize and a pity-laden reminder of his illness.Keith doesn’t know what he’s seeing. All he knows is that he needs to be there for Shiro.Gesturing at Shiro, Iverson tells the crowd, “This young man could understand the words, ‘hopeless case’ or, ‘lost cause’ just fine, if he ever wanted. But hechoosesnot to, time and time again.”Shiro gulps as his eyes land on Keith, the one person, above all others, whoknowswhat this part of Iverson’s speech means. Sandwiched between Pidge and Adam, Keith rubs his thumb along his knuckles. For all he fills out the new dress grays nicely, he bristles like he’s struggling against a straitjacket.Which should not make Shiro’s tongue stick to the roof of his mouth, or send a chill to the pit of his stomach, but here they are.





	cracked veneer

**Author's Note:**

> I really don’t know what to say about this one. I did agonize about the tagging a bit, since romantic!Kidge is actively happening, but the Sheith is also romantic and they’re the pairing who’s actually in focus for this ficlet. So, that’s where everything is, and I hope that it’s tagged alright. ♡

Commander Mitchell Iverson looks completely natural in front of a crowd and a Garrison-gray backdrop, hands braced on a podium. Although he doesn’t smile, his eyes glimmer as he reminds the crowd why they’ve gathered at Darby Memorial Park this evening — as if anyone could forget that Shiro has allegedly earned a promotion ceremony.

Waiting behind Iverson, Shiro forces himself to keep his posture rigid, his jaw set, and his eyes ahead. His body aches as he endures hearing how honored his godfather is to be here. His heart writhes while Uncle Mitch extends a special welcome to the loved ones, filling up the first row of folding chairs: Dr. Ryou Shirogane, his twin brother; their aunt, Dr. Satomi Shirogane of Stanford University’s history department, and her wife, Naoko Ayanami; and First Lieutenant Adam West, Yukiharu Tsukiyama, and Second Lieutenant Keith Kogane, Shiro’s personal friends.

That’s an interesting way to say, _“Shiro’s ex-boyfriend, his friend with regular, strictly platonic benefits, and the guy he is embarrassingly, hopelessly in love with,”_ but there’s probably no reason to waste anyone’s time with the specifics of those relationships.

Besides, nothing good would come of letting Keith know how Shiro feels about him.

Listening to his decade of accomplishments, Shiro fights to keep each breath long, slow, and deep. Youngest person to ever lead a mission, more successful flights and shattered records than anyone in the Galaxy Garrison’s hundred-and-sixty-five-year history — some of them set by Shiro’s own mother, the late Tenō Noshiko. If Shiro doesn’t get sick, then his nerves are going to catch fire and burn down every single genetically modified tree in sight.

“Of course,” Uncle Mitch tells the crowd, “a career at the Galaxy Garrison can’t be measured only in personal achievements.”

His voice would boom even if he didn’t have a microphone. Listening to him, Shiro’s chest clamps up, like his ribs want to strangle his lungs. His breath snags in his throat. Everything seems to rush around him, but his head feels impossibly heavy, bogged down in _too much_.

But Shiro keeps smiling because that’s what everyone expects from him. That’s what the Galaxy Garrison’s Golden Boy would do.

Turning back toward the podium, Uncle Mitch explains, “The Galaxy Garrison rewards effort, dedication, exceptional performance, and skill. However, we can’t tell Lieutenant Shirogane’s whole story without mentioning his _service_. In my decades with the Garrison, I’ve never known anyone who took our call to service as seriously, or worked as hard to honor it, as Shiro does.”

Modestly ducking his chin, Shiro folds his hands behind his back. He fumbles with the bulky bracelet on his left wrist, feels around for the button that he wants, and chokes down a sigh of relief as the controlled electrical burst washes over his muscles.

“This is a man who cannot content himself with simply being the Garrison’s best and brightest.”

Using his electro-stimulators should put everything right for Shiro, keep anything bad from happening.

“Rather than rest on his laurels, he looks for ways to better himself and to help others.”

Shiro’s been in a remission period for the past few months. True, the stress surrounding today could make his symptoms return with a vengeance, ready to hand Admiral Sanda more reasons to keep Shiro benched from longer missions — but Shiro hasn’t noticed any warning signs.

“Instead of preaching standards that he doesn’t honor, he strives to embody and exemplify the Garrison’s most treasured values.”

No trouble sleeping (no more than usual). No tingling or numbness (aside from the one time his leg fell asleep while he and Keith sat on the Ahn Building’s roof with Pidge, her homemade receiver, and the strange signals she’s picked up on it). No tremors, or difficulty concentrating, or unexplained fatigue (only exhaustion that catches up with him when Shiro’s worked too hard, for too long). Nothing to indicate an oncoming storm.

“Lieutenant Shirogane consistently goes above and beyond for _everyone_ at the Garrison.” Uncle Mitch inhales sharply. “His fellow officers look to him for hope in the most trying times. Cadets in classes that he leads can expect both fairness and compassion, guidance and understanding.”

The electro-stimulators _should_ help see Shiro through this. They should not leave him feeling gutted, like he’s listening to a speech in honor of the monster that tore out his insides and replaced his heart with a black hole.

Uncle Mitch huffs, almost laughing. “Shiro has even, on some occasions, _ignored_ what everyone else deemed to be good judgment, all in the name of helping someone who needed it.”

He shouldn’t, but Shiro looks to the front row. He smiles back at Aunt Satomi, towering over her short-haired wife even while seated and showing off their family’s broad shoulders in her little black dress.

On Satomi’s other side, Ryou smooths out the blazer he wore while defending his dissertation back in May. In a baby blue polo, Lance leans against Ryou’s side and stares, starry-eyed, up at Shiro. He’s lucky that the Garrison rarely hosts one-person promotion ceremonies on-campus. After trying to get into confidential files about what happened to Hunk and the Kerberos crew, Lance is banned from Garrison property, even as Ryou’s plus-one for a special event.

Then again, Katie Holt nominally can’t be at the Garrison, but “Cadet Pidge Gunderson” sits here in full dress as if nothing’s wrong. She’ll be fine, as long as Shiro keeps his promise to Uncle Mitch: _“Keep that girl out of trouble and off Admiral Sanda’s radar, and I’ll look the other way about this little stunt.”_

So, here she is, adjusting her brother’s old glasses and grinning as Uncle Mitch gestures at Shiro and tells the crowd, “This young man could know the meaning of the words, ‘hopeless case’ or, ‘lost cause’ just fine, if he ever wanted. But he _chooses_ not to, time and time again.”

Shiro gulps as his eyes land on Keith, the one person, above all others, who _knows_ what this part of Uncle Mitch’s speech means. Sandwiched between Pidge and Adam, Keith rubs his thumb along his knuckles, the way he always does when stressed. For all he fills out the new dress grays nicely — just like he’s done with his day-to-day uniform since getting his Lieutenant’s stripes at the end of August — Keith bristles like he’s struggling against a straitjacket.

Which should not make Shiro’s tongue stick to the roof of his mouth, or send a chill to the pit of his stomach, but here they are.

“This, more than anything else, is what makes Shiro exceptional,” Uncle Mitch says, failing to keep his voice from breaking. “He doesn’t simply rise to challenges, but tries to show everyone else that they can do the same. And he doesn’t believe that anyone is ever truly lost, no matter how many other people are willing to give up on them.”

He should look away from Keith — but Shiro freezes as Keith’s gaze finds his own. God, what he wouldn’t give to drown in Keith’s warm, blue-violet eyes. They glisten in the mix of sunset and streetlamps, and from here, Shiro would almost swear that Keith’s eyes are misting over. Even if they aren’t, Keith’s tight-lipped smile speaks volumes about the pain he carries and what Hell he went through before he and Shiro found each other.

Sighing, Uncle Mitch leans more heavily on the podium. “In the year since we lost the Kerberos mission, Shiro’s indomitable spirit has helped the Garrison move forward. Not erasing the loss, or denying its pain, but inspiring us to keep going. To honor the sacrifices that the Kerberos mission made by living, chasing our full potential, and refusing to quit when we get knocked down or hit a setback.”

Before Shiro can ponder saying something sarcastic, Uncle Mitch summons him to the podium. He beams as Shiro holds up his right hand and pledges himself yet again to the Garrison’s oath of office. Pinning on Shiro’s new insignia and laying new gold stripes over each of his shoulders, Uncle Mitch whispers, “I’m proud of you, son.”

Clapping Shiro on the back, he announces, “May I present Lieutenant Commander Takashi Shirogane.”

Applause erupts, and Shiro’s face twitches into a smile. He fights to keep it in-place because he should be happy. No matter how much this condescending exercise hurts, Shiro cannot allow himself to crack.

Most of the time, faux-happiness is an easy enough façade. But when he spots Keith lacing his fingers up with Katie’s, Shiro feels the color draining from his face.

God, what he wouldn’t give to disappear.

  


* * *

  


Maybe Keith should’ve known better, but when Shiro said his promotion ceremony was happening in the park, Keith expected that they wouldn’t need to sit through a reception afterward. Instead, they’ve moved a few blocks away, to the private room at an stifling, upscale steakhouse that Keith never dreamed he’d see the inside of, whose prices make Keith wince, even though he isn’t paying for this dinner.

Part of him wishes that Shiro would waste money on an overpriced whisky-cola, though. It might take the edge off, make it easier for him to grin whenever one of their superior officers stands up to make a toast. His fake-smile quivers like a bowstring until he drops it during Captain Palmer’s tale about his and Shiro’s first meeting. When Aunt Satomi curls a long-fingered hand around Shiro’s shoulder, he looks like he wants to cry.

Probably, most people chalk that up to the story yanking on Shiro’s heartstrings. Captain Palmer studied under his Dad. When they first met, wide-eyed five-year-old Kashi was following the late Hikaru Shirogane around the Garrison, babbling about how it was his Mom’s birthday and he wanted to go to space when he grew up.

The cloud doesn’t lift off when the story’s over, though. His lips strain more visibly with each smile that he plasters on, and his shoulders sag like it’s taking incredible effort for him to stay upright.

Keith writhes in his seat and fusses with his jacket’s cuffs, watching Shiro endure Professor Kaplan’s congratulations, trying to think of something he can say. As Kaplan’s story winds down, Keith sneaks a glimpse of his own right wrist, at the tattoo along the inside, stark black against his pale skin: _t’hy’la_ , written in simple script.

Shiro has one just like it. He and Keith went out and got them a few weeks ago, after Shiro caught Keith and Pidge making out in a supply closet. Shiro knows what _Star Trek_ says the word means — _“It’s Vulcan for, ‘friend,’”_ he explained, _“but it also means, ‘brother’ and sometimes, ‘lover’”_ — but the tattoo means the world to Keith. Yuki might’ve known Shiro since he was eighteen, and Lance might’ve wormed his way in quickly when Shiro was only meant to supervise Lance’s calls with Hunk before the Kerberos mission failed. Shiro might call both of them, “best friends”… but only Keith gets to be his, _“t’hy’la.”_

Right now, the word means that Keith should have something to tell Shiro that makes everything better.

Instead, he has Shiro pushing up from the table.

He only holds up when Ryou catches him by the wrist. Normally, Shiro would jerk away. Ryou weighs more than Shiro does, but it’s soft chub, not Shiro’s lean muscle. Getting out of Ryou’s hold should be easy.

But Shiro slouches, giving Ryou a look for which the only word is _tired_.

“I’ll be right back, okay,” he promises like a man who has no intention of keeping it. “I just need some air.”

Ryou relents and lets him go, probably to quell a fight before one starts. Either way, Keith could completely lose his head in the buzz and din of other people talking about this. Not that he begrudges them anything, under the circumstances, but understanding why they’re like this doesn’t mean Keith needs to like it.

“Jeez,” Lance sighs. “What’s _his_ problem?”

Pushing his black plastic-rimmed glasses up his nose, Ryou deadpans, “Do you want me to go alphabetically, chronologically, or in order of current severity.”

“I don’t know, yes? All of the above?” Lance groans helplessly and wilts against Ryou’s shoulder. “Just… Today’s supposed to be _happy_ , right?”

“As much as it can be.” Pidge adjusts Matt’s old glasses and props herself up on her elbows. “Especially when Iverson had to mention Kerberos.”

She pouts, but that’s fair. Most of the people at their table know that “Pidge Gunderson” and Katie Holt are the same person, but some don’t. Anyway, they can’t treat her as her authentic self, not when getting her caught could too easily lead to treason charges.

“Yeah, that was…” Lance’s face falls as he fusses with his shirt.

Ryou curls a pudgy arm around Lance’s skinny shoulders, but Ryou’s hugs won’t replace Hunk. Getting kissed on the temple isn’t the same as Lance’s lost fiancé. No matter how much affection Ryou showers on Lance, he can’t bring Hunk back — just like being Pidge’s boyfriend hasn’t stopped Keith from feeling how he does about Shiro. She makes him feel safe, and good, and _wanted_ , like the entire world’s gone warm and pink, and everything is how it should be.…

Except for the way Keith still looks at Shiro, gets sick with longing, and can’t remember how to breathe.

Shouldn’t it have gone away by now? Six weeks is long enough for Keith to have moved on from feelings that Shiro will never reciprocate because why would he. Maybe _Lance_ is polyamorous, but Keith’s just being selfish, right? Or noncommittal? _Or_ —

“No disrespect against your godfather, babe,” Lance drawls, mercifully cutting off Keith’s thoughts. “But Iverson  _really_ didn’t need to bring up Kerberos. And he _had_ to know how Shiro would take it, yeah?”

“That’s _not_ what Shiro’s upset about,” Keith whispers before he can stop himself. Hugging himself, he slumps in his seat. His leg knocks into Pidge’s, but she doesn’t seem to mind. “I know what’s bugging Shiro, just… It’s not my thing to say, alright?”

“Let’s just say that Kashi has a chip on his shoulder.” Ruffling his own hair, Ryou huffs. “He thinks the Garrison actually promoted him for reasons _other_ than his hard work and service. So—”

“We shouldn’t let him be by himself for too long.” Adam takes a deep breath, and maybe he has an idea—

—But Keith’s already standing up. “I’ll let you guys know what happens, okay?”

  


* * *

  


Out in the steakhouse’s private lot, Shiro undoes the chain around his hover-bike, unpockets his keys, and slumps against her hull. He pillows his forehead on his arms and can’t find the energy to sigh. He should get going, if he really wants to leave. Yet, as someone else stumbles toward him, he can’t pry himself off his bike. Not until—

“Shiro?”

“I’m… Keith, I…” Choking on his own attempt to lie, Shiro turns to face his t’hy’la. “I can’t take it anymore. Smiling, pretending we don’t all know they only did this because I’m sick. Because I’m running out of time and they _feel bad_ for me.”

Keith nods, edges close enough to take Shiro’s hand, nudging the electro-stimulator bracelet with his fingers. “How are you feeling?”

“I don’t know, messy?” Even so, he curls his fingers around Keith’s. “Like I need to go fly. Even just a hover-bike. Before they take that away from me, too.”

Beneath the too-bright light from the street-lamps, Keith looks washed-out. His eyes go wide and his lips tremble, but determined as ever, he whispers, “Let me come with you? I don’t want to leave you alone right now.”

Something hot, and thick, and selfish wells up in Shiro’s throat. Something else itches in the back of his skull, hissing that he could kiss Keith right now. Yet a third something screams that he can’t kiss Keith, actually, because Keith deserves infinitely better than anything he’ll get from Shiro. If he were half the man everyone thinks he is, Shiro would refuse, tell Keith to go back inside, and go off on his own.

Instead, Shiro squeezes Keith’s hand and smiles. “I’d like that,” he says.

**Author's Note:**

> As ever, I’m also on Tumblr ([amorremanet](http://amorremanet.tumblr.com)) and Discord (amorremanet#5500), and my favorite pastime is making my fictional faves Feel things. Also, you can take Trekkie!Shiro from me when you come and pry him from my cold, dead hands.


End file.
